


Diamond in the Rough

by hpotps



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Inspired by Aladdin (1992), M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, V CUTE, Warnings May Change, abu is named winter, bucky is aladdin, i dont actually know when that movie came out, if that's the disney film, its a disney aladdin au, raja is dubbed tasha, steve is jasmine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-09-25 00:41:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9794702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpotps/pseuds/hpotps
Summary: Inspired off of Disney's animated feature film: Aladdin. James "Bucky" Barnes is a lonely street rat, with an expertly trained monkey named Winter. With these two, trouble is second nature. But that's the thing about diamonds isn't it? They don't show their beauty at first.Please read foreword and prologue.





	1. Foreword

**Author's Note:**

> The Aladdin AU nobody asked for. You're welcome.

Well, well, well. I can see that you only have a taste in the finest things mankind has to offer. Allow me a moment, then, to suggest something the gods themselves have grown to fear. Come now, this is no ordinary lamp! It’s dust and dinge is all a part of the appeal, it is what is on the inside that counts, is it not? After all, this lamp did change the course of a young man’s life. 

This man, not unlike this lamp, was a true treasure, covered in dirt and filth, but a treasure no less. A diamond in the rough, if you will. 

Still uninterested? Perhaps, if I told you the tale, if you knew the wonders this lamp held, would you then be interested?

Very good.

**Continue on, and you will find, it all started, on a dark night, long, long ago. **


	2. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, our story begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter edited 28 February, 2017. Please see changes.

“You’ve kept me waiting, George.” The man said, his voice was deep, slow, assured. It was the voice of a man with high status, and great power. A man, who, in these stories, is forever the villain.

“A thousand apologies, oh Patient One.” Winifred said when George was too slow to react. She was unsure if the sweat breaking her brow was from the hawk circling them, or from the unmistakable scent wafting from the man standing before her. George and Winifred were an exceptional team, capable of great triumphs, but always felt inadequate standing here, in _his_ presence.

“You have it, then?” He asked, and it sent shivers down George's spine. His voice always made George feel like putty in the great man’s hands.

“It was no easy task, Sir,” George began, and the glimmer of rage he saw sent a thrill through him, “But I am no easy man. I have it.” George reached into his coat and extracted the twinkling jewel. It was a beautiful thing, however simple. It was half of a beetle, one wing, two legs, and a curious notch in the side, as though it were part of a puzzle. It was warm, seeking its other half. Winifred shifted from her place in the sand, practically panting from the thought of success.

He made to grab the beautiful piece, but George was no fool. Mad? Yes. But a fool? No. He jerked it out of reach just before the man could take it from him, and clicked his tongue. “My reward?” He asked, and it was then that the hawk swooped down toward him and plucked the beetle half right out of his hands. Winifred spluttered indignantly, making a grab for the piece that had cost them a great deal to acquire.

“Trust me, George,” And his voice was like molasses and George found it suddenly very warm in the frigid desert. “You will get _exactly_ what you deserve.”

He clicked the two pieces together, and suddenly the beetle was alive. Glowing, warm in the night, buzzing as it took off toward its goal. “Quickly!” The man cried, mounting his steed, and tearing off after the flying beetle. George and Winifred followed him, as quick as they could. Hooves pounding in the sand, they followed the flickering bug, all the way to where it took a sudden nosedive and plummeted into the depths of the desert.

They stood there for a moment, casting a sidelong glance to one another. The moments stretched on in silence, and for the first time, George grew weary at the presence of the man. As though he were finally seeing him for what he truly was: a fraud. His hand curled into a fist at the thought of being fooled so easily. He gathered the courage to speak his mind, and whirled in the sand toward the man he and his wife had exalted. “You-” But it was no more than that syllable to escape his mouth before a great rumbling occurred, and George stumbled back and bumped into Winifred. “What?” He gasped, and the night air changed, coming alive.

Before his very eyes, the great desert rumbled and roared, and from its depths a great beast rose.

“At last!” The man spoke in awe, “After all my years of searching.” He reached up to pet the hawk that had found comfort perching on his shoulders. “The Cave of Wonder.”

He turned to George who was just scrambling to get back on his feet. “Remember what I said, the lamp is mine. The rest of the treasure is yours to have.”

George and Winifred nodded dumbly, and walked closer to the being. It wasn’t quite alive per se, but still it appeared to be breathing.

Behind him, the hawk turned to the man, “Where’d you find this idiot?”

The man said nothing, instead raising a slender finger to his lips to silence the bird.

Winifred shook from head to toe in fear and awe, George marched on, stoic as ever. However, he precariously dangled his foot an inch above the entrance to the Cave. He glanced at his wife and she nodded, he touched his toe to the sand, and seized up. For a moment, nothing happened, and as he began to relax, the being seemed to finally come alive. Made entirely of sand, and magnificent in presence, the tiger shaped being roared with tremendous power.

“ _Who disturbs my slumber_?”

In the panic of the motion of the beast, George had sprawled backwards several feet. Winifred rushed to his side to check on him. Shaking his head to remove the sand from his ears as best as he could, George collapsed to his knees and cried out, “It is I! George Barnes, the humble thief.” He bowed his head and touched his torso to the sand before him in the highest form of respect he could display.

"And I," His wife cried beside him, bowing in a similar manner, "Winifred Barnes, the humble explorer."

“ _Know this_ ,” the beast called into the night, voice booming and impossible, “ _Only one may enter here, one whose worth lies far beneath the surface. The diamond, in the rough._ ”

George knew that he was no such thing. A man, by moral code, he was up to par, but a diamond in the rough? That implied a far greater sense of morality than he possessed. He looked to his wife, nervous, and then back, making unnerving eye contact with the hawk. The man urged him to go on, and George found himself unable to say no. Slowly, he went back to the mouth of the beast, and forged onward.

Again, with great trepidation and falsified gusto, George placed a daring foot onto the sandy staircase. Winifred boldly stepped in with him. They grasped each other's hand and just as they went to take another step, the beast roared, closing its mouth, and crushing them inside. As the beast collapsed into another dune, its words echoed across the land: “ _Seek out the diamond in the rough._ ”

“No!” The man cried, his robes billowing in the night air. All this time, all this planning, for nothing. The Cave of Wonder was now closed.

“I just can’t believe it!” The hawk cried as it burst forth from the sand, “I just don’t believe it! We’re never going to get a hold on that _stupid_ lamp. Just forget it, I mean, look at this!” He was now pulling at his feathers, watching them cascade to the sandy ground beneath him as he gripped the two beetle halves and flew them back to his master.

“Patience, Rumlow, _patience._ ” He said as he caught the two beetle halves dropped into his hand. “These  _Barnes_ ," He said with great disdain, "were obviously less than worthy.”

“Oh there’s a big surprise! I think I’m gonna have a heart attack from the shock of it all.” Rumlow crowed. “We have a big problem here, what are we gonna do?”

“Yes, Rumlow, this does present quite the _difficulty_ ,” He said, choosing his words with great care, “to our plan, however it is not impossible to solve.”

He spun on his heel, cloak billowing in the night as he approached his horse. Morning was approaching, and with it, the sun. He did not wish to be caught out in its unforgiving blaze.

He grabbed the reigns of his horse, and climbed upon it, heading out of the land. Behind him, the wind picked up and swept across the terrain, revealing a broken mass of a man and woman, hands still connected. With hardly any strength left in him, and his ribs having pierced his lungs, George raised his hand after the shadowy figures receding into the night. “Please,” He croaked, arm falling to the ground as it stretched for his savior. Before his hand collided with the sand, he lie there, image of a beautiful boy with sterling blue eyes staining his mind, dead.

With his beady eyes, Rumlow watched the life fade from the brave thief and bold explorer. “Come, Rumlow,” the man called. “We have some work cut out for us.”

After all, finding a worthy candidate would be just short of impossible. Whoever it was, this man, this person, this- this- diamond in the rough.


	3. Chapter 1: Street Rat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky was always very good at getting into trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's meet our hero shall we?

You’d be surprised how important bread is. Well, it must be important, it nearly cost our hero his head!

Bucky Barnes peeked over the edge of the building he climbed, and looked back over his shoulder. Rollins had just clambered up to the roof Bucky stood on, “Stop!”

“All this for a loaf of bread?” Bucky asked himself. Rollins was gaining on him. Without much further thought, he leaped over the edge and caught onto the clothing line. Rather painfully, he slid across them, trying to gain balance. Just as he thought he’d accomplished his goal, the clips gave way and he crashed through a series of awnings, collapsing in a heap of clothing on the ground.

“There he is!” Martin called over the building ledge, pointing down at Bucky.

“You won’t get away so easy!” Fouler cried.

“You think that was easy?” Bucky murmured, incredulous.

“You two! This way,” Rollins gestured pointing towards Bucky, “You two, circle around.” Bucky got up, untangling himself from the pants he’d taken down from the clothesline. He wrapped a cloth around his torso, and sidled up to the beautiful ladies on the corner, trying to blend in.

“Getting in trouble a little early today, are we, Bucky?” The woman, Ms. Castillo asked.

“Only in trouble if you get caught, Anna.” He said, blowing her a kiss as he took off. He’d no sooner turned around before he was grabbed and lifted clean off his feet. “I’m in trouble!”

Just as his stomach dropped and he thought perhaps he was well and truly caught out, Winter appeared like a miracle. He pulled Rollins’ hat down over his head, blocking his eyes. Rollins reached up, trying to dislodge the monkey and his hat at the same time.

“Great timing, Winter! As always,” He tacked on, and raced passed the man. “Let’s get out of here!”

Bucky launched himself into the fray, running around and dodging the policemen. He hurtled around corners, through buildings, flirting with the various women he passed. He crashed into a wall, and ran across a bed of nails. In the hectic air of it all, Bucky found himself laughing like a child, giddy and bright. He knew he shouldn’t but he was so in love with the chase, he found himself dragging it out far longer than it should have gone on.

“Gotta eat to live, gotta steal to eat, otherwise we’d get along!” He called over his shoulder as he leaped onto the back of a man who was walking on coal. He laughed as Rollins and the other peacekeepers raced across the coal and scorched their feet. Just ahead, a man swallowed his sword. Winter grabbed its handle and brandished the sword at the peacekeepers.

“He’s got a sword!” Martin called out.

“You idiots!” Rollins screamed, “We’ve all got swords!” He raised his own, and soon again Winter was hanging onto Bucky’s open vest as he ran along. He raced up a flight of stairs, throwing himself through a window, and crashing to the floor as he tumbled and grabbed the area rug laying there. He was soon back on his feet and without much more than a moment’s hesitation, he jumped from the window and soared to the ground below, using the rug as a parachute. Rollins and his men jumped after him, but without the rug, they crashed into the large pile of manure that lay there.

Bucky gave Winter a crisp high five, breaking his bread in two as he laughed about their adventure. He smiled widely and brought the bread to his lips, ready to revel in their winnings. He was just about to take a bite when he noticed the little boy and girl sitting not too far away from him. They were picking through the dumpster across the way, and Bucky’s heart broke a little when he noticed how similar the kid looked to himself. They noticed him and started, cowing in on themselves. The girl, most likely the younger of the two, looked afraid. The boy, however, had a glint in his eye, an unspoken challenge, though he made no move to attack him.

Bucky looked on for a moment more, and the three were trapped in a moment of tension, both parties unsure of how the other was going to react. Then Bucky’s stomach grumbled, and his shoulders slumped, and he was so tired and so, _so_ hungry. But the girl was clutching her stomach, and Bucky could tell she was weak from the starvation. Silently, and with great care, he approached them, handing over the bread. It was still warm.

The bread was aloft for a moment, and the girl’s arm shot out, but her brother was too quick and he caught her wrist. Slowly, he reached forward and grabbed the bread. When Bucky made no move to take it back, or drop it to the dirt, the boy grabbed the bread and quickly bit into it, as though Bucky were going to change his mind and try to snatch it back. It kind of broke his heart.

“Hey, slow down.” He said calmly as the boy ate voraciously. “Enjoy it.” He stood and stretched before walking away. He passed Winter who was slowly munching on his bread still, frowning slightly. Bucky looked down at the monkey, over his shoulder to where the boy was urging his sister to eat the bread he'd only taken one bite from.

“Well?” He asked, challenging. The monkey looked up at him and glared. “Yes.” Winter opened his mouth and went for another bite, and Bucky rolled his eyes. “Then that's on you.” He said and began walking away. Behind him, Winter struggled between the hunger and the generosity. In the end, his generosity won out and he clambered over to the little boy and girl and handed over his half of the loaf, determinedly staring at the ground.

The girl smiled and accepted the bread. Winter crossed his arms across his chest, still frowning. The girl reached down and scratched under his chin. Winter tried not to smile but eventually gave into the treatment and allowed the girl to hug him. “Thank you.” She whispered sincerely in his ear. Smiled softly and rested into her arms for a moment before leaving and rushing after Bucky. He climbed up Bucky’s leg and up his back onto his shoulder, where he pouted but giggled when Bucky tickled his chin.

“They'll be alright,” Bucky said as he passed a glass panel where he could see the kids' reflections. He hadn't meant for it to come out as a question, but was satisfied when Winter smiled at him. “Yeah,” he sighed, “they'll be alright.”

He made it to the edge of the alley and saw a crowd gathering there. He wiggled his way to the front, and saw a beautiful woman. Bucky could tell she was powerful by the way people were staring.

“She’s the first one.” People were whispering.

“She’s a stunning one.” A woman said to his left.

“What do you think he’ll say?” A man asked on his right.

Bucky looked around, trying to find someone who would tell him what was going on.

“The first suitor,” A woman sighed somewhere to his right again, “The prince will have a hard time saying no to this one.”

“Prince?” Bucky mumbled. He remembered his parent’s mentioning him, but he was never seen outside the palace walls, he honestly thought he’d made the boy up.

“I thought he was _queer_.” The woman murmured conspiratorially.

“Nonsense, Adira! The boy is just ill.” Another woman said next to her.

“Well this princess is quite beautiful. I suppose we’ll see soon enough.” Adira said.

Just as Adira finished speaking, the girl from the alley charged through the crowd holding a scrap of cloth high above her head, giggling madly. The boy chased after her, “Aanisah, wait! Not the street!” He was smiling through his shouts, obviously enjoying the game they were playing. Aanisah charged right in front of the oncoming horse, which reared and neighed loudly. The boy ran up to his sister and made to pick her up when the man that was on the horse sneered.

“How dare you disrupt the path of Princess Adena.” He called out, raising his whip and lashing out. Bucky rushed from where he was standing, but was too slow.

The whip sailed through the air and the boy stood with his arm high above his head, the whip curled around his arm, and he did not flinch. Bucky blinked in shock for a moment before rushing up, “You know,” He said, snatching the whip from the man’s hand, and relaxing fractionally as the whip came undone from the boy’s arm and the marks were not too bad. “If I were as rich as you,” He shepherded the kids around him and was relieved to hear them run off behind him. “I could afford some manners.”

The man looked on in shock as Bucky threw the whip back to him. “Hmph.” He said, and kicked Bucky hard him the chest as he walked by. “I have no use for the words of a _street rat_.”

Bucky stumbled back and fell into the mud, anger searing. “That’s funny, Winter, it’s not everyday you see a horse with two rear ends!” He called, and the man turned, while the Princess looked on, entirely disinterested in the goings on, but rolling her eyes at yet another hold up.

“You are nothing but a street rat. You were born a street rat, you will die a street rat, with no one left to mourn you but the fleas.” He turned his horse and trotted through the gates that swung shut just as Bucky reached them. He pounded his fist on the doors once before sagging in defeat.

“I do not have fleas.” He mumbled, scratching his head absentmindedly. He caught himself and frowned at the ground. Winter climbed his pant leg again and rested on his shoulder, nuzzling Bucky’s neck lightly.

He ignored the crowd staring at him. Instead, he and Winter walked the rest of the way home in the quiet, and climbed the stairs up to their room. It was crowded with boxes and crates, and was definitely an attic, but Mrs. Kansal downstairs pretended she didn't know he was living here as long as he was quiet and did not disturb her business.

He owed her his life, he knew.

He sat on the window sill, and pinned the cloth back and looked out into the night. He had a gorgeous view of the palace from here. Every turret and spine of the building was truly magnificent, it was amazing. Bucky tried to draw the palace once. He crumpled up the paper and vowed to never draw the place again.

So he wrote about it.

Small things, usually snippets, but he would stare at it for hours and hours before he fell asleep and always had something to say. It was strange, however, for every night he wrote something he would wake in the morning and read it to find a whole new meaning.

For example: “Gleaming in the warm summer sun, trapped behind his own walls.”

Nothing grandiose, and frankly he wasn’t even sure he liked it. But it struck him as odd nonetheless. The night he wrote it, the poem was about the palace, but when he read it the next day it seemed very curious that the palace would be a he. And that he would be trapped when in reality, the palace stretches far and wide into the lands of Agrabah. The palace _was_ the land. The Sultana saw to it, that.

It made him wonder that, perhaps, the poem was not about the palace at all, but someone living there. The people saw the Sultana regularly, she even ventured so far as to visit the Outer Ring, and the people that lived there. The one time Bucky saw the woman, he was almost convinced she felt saddened by the poverty she witnessed there, though not much changed. The water was cleaner the next day, which was a miracle, but even that fell to disrepair with time.

Sometimes Bucky wondered that there wasn’t something more to the palace than he was taught growing up. He liked to imagine what it would be like to live there. To be a prince.

His stomach rumbled loudly, disrupting his reverie, and he sighed. “One day,” He said to Winter, “One day we’ll get a chance. A real shot at changing this land. And we’ll do it for the better.” He smiled to himself, absently scratching Winter behind the ears.

“Yeah,” He said, eyes getting droopy from the hunger and the chase and the adrenaline finally wearing off. “We’ll do it for the better.”


	4. Chapter 2: Prince Stephen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's a poet, and Steve's an artist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have made edits to the prologue, please reread these as it becomes relevant in later chapters. Also, chapter length will vary. I'm attempting to keep each chapter to a scene, but sometimes the story takes on a mind of its own and your fingers run off without you.
> 
> Also when reading it, Mama is MuhMah and Papa is PuhPah not Mahmuh and Pahpuh.

Imagine, if you will, the life of your dreams. More than likely, this life is a soft one. You can put food on the table, you have a large window seat, and you’re entirely independent. Things are quiet, and peaceful.

The palace was all the splendor you can imagine.

A magnificent structure with several ballrooms, magical hallways, and ornate paintings. Donned from top to bottom in a sweet swath of wealth the Outer Ring would never know. It was a regular cause of envy, but never spoken, no, for the Sultana is kind, and she is good, and for that the people would hold their tongue. That was just the way things were.

The people knew the palace was luxurious, but the soft life they crave is a far cry from the life of royalty.

“Stephen, honey?” Ananya said.

“Yes, Mother?” He answered, sitting on his chair facing the window, charcoal staining his fingers.

“Can we… talk?” She asked, hesitant.

Steve turned around, facing her. “Of course, Mama, what’s wrong?”

“We haven’t discussed what happened.” She began and just as she feared, Steve locked up.

“There is nothing to discuss, Mother.” He said curtly, turning back to his art and resolutely ignoring the eyes burning two holes into the back of his neck.

“There is only everything to discuss, Stephen.” And he knew that tone. That was a warning tone. Actually, correction: that was _the_ warning tone. His mother never gave more than one warning before he was in deep trouble. His shoulders sagged in defeat. She smiled serenely behind him, grateful her son had some brains behind that thick skull of his. “Stephen, she was gorgeous, witty, flattering, and perhaps most importantly _powerful_. Why did you send her away so shortly?”

“Because, Mama,” He said, frowning slightly as he raised his nimble fingers to the stretch of canvas, fingers hovering no more than an inch before it, but he sighed and dropped his hand. “She was and is not the one for me.”

“You can’t possibly know that,” She began.

“Yes, I can!” He said exasperatedly. “She was beautiful but cold, clever but unkind. That is not what I want in a suitor.”

“Stephen, how can you know what you’re looking for in a potential wife?”

“Pardon?” He asked, trying to settle his tone before he yelled at his mother.

“You’ve only seen one, how could you know what you like, already, when you sent Princess Adena away so shortly?” Ananya insisted.

“Because, Mama-”

“Because what Stephen?” And now, it was her turn to be frustrated.

“Because I don’t feel as if I need any suitor.” He said in a rush, and it felt as though the air in the room had left them. He bit his lip, trying and failing again to bring the charcoal to the canvas. His mother sat very still beside him, and he took a deep breath. “Mama, I’m worried I will not find love.”

“Stephen-!” She was cut off.

“No, Mama! I mean it. I’m worried that no one will love me. She was beautiful, and powerful, yes, but I don’t want to marry for gain. Our kingdom is strong, flourishing even! If you and Papa would simply fix the Outer Ring, then our kindom would be heralded as not only strong and independent, but _kind_ , Mama.” He was pleading now, “I don’t want to rule a kingdom known for being manipulative and only making moves to advance itself on the playing field, I want to rule the kingdom known for making moves to invest in itself period. A place that people from every land come to for a better life! Every other kingdom is full of Kings, Queens, Sultans, all of which are greedy and only interested in their own gain, not the gain for the people.” He took a rattling breath, “I’m afraid I will not find love like that. I’m afraid that if I marry some suitor because they are powerful, then I will be no different than those other lands. I want to marry for love, Mama. I want to show all those other kingdoms that you can be in love and strong at the same time. I’m just afraid that there are no suitors out there that would feel the same.”

He fell into a coughing fit, and Ananya reached forward to help. “Oh, my boy.” He was hacking. He knew he wasn’t to speak so much so quickly, it wasn’t good for his lungs, the doctors said. Ananya rubbed his back and held the live-in doctor at bay. Slowly, Steve recovered. In his coughing fit, his hand had tensed and broke his charcoal. He tried not to be so upset about it.

“How can anyone love me when I’m trapped in this frail body, Mama?” His voice was thick, but weak, and his throat hurt from coughing.

There was a long silence as she held him.

“I know,” She said, and he grit his teeth, grateful his forehead rested on her shoulder and she could not see him. Here it was, “that you love your people. And I love you for that, so very much, Stephen. But there is a reason we have the Outer Ring. There is a reason we have our Classes. You will see, someday.”

“When is someday, Mama?” He pleaded.

Her face settled into something between pity and resolution, “You will know when it comes.”

They sat there for a moment more, before Ananya took a deep breath.

“I must go oversee the Morning Court, darling. Please,” She stressed, “please rest.” She stood, and noticed the blank canvas. “What were you going to create?” She asked quietly.

“I’m not sure.” He lied.

“Ah, I will have Ahsan bring you a new stick of charcoal for when you figure it out.” She said kindly.

“Um, no,” He said, voice soft, “No,” He looked at the broken stick of charcoal in his hand, “I can still use this one.” He smiled up at her, wide and bright, hoping his eyes were not so noticeably wet.

“Alright darling. Kasi will be just outside the door if you need anything.” She smiled blissfully, kissing her boy on the cheek.

“Of course, Mama.” He said, turning back to the canvas.

Ananya swept from the room, and Steve waited for a moment. “Kasi?” He called softly. No matter how quietly he spoke her name, she always heard him and appeared moments later.

“Yes, Prince Stephen?” She said, smiling.

He grinned at her, “I’ve told you to call me Steve.”

“I cannot do that, Sire.” She said, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“And if I ordered you to?” He asked cheekily.

“I would have Sultana Kapoor order me not to.” She replied, grinning mischievously.

“Fair enough.” He smiled, “Will you send Ahsan in here please?”

“He is on the grounds, Sire, shall I have him halt his work?” She asked.

“Please.” He said, “And send Bipin after him, he does well enough in the grounds.”

“Of course, Prince Stephen.” She exited and Steve took a deep breath, turning the canvas to portrait over landscape. He stood before the mirror and made himself more presentable. He ran a distressed hand through his hair. It fell lightly into his eyes. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, pulling up his sleeves. He turned to sit and was caught by surprise to see Ahsan standing in the doorway, hand posed to knock.

He chuckled lightly and his hand fell to his side. “You wanted to see me, Prince Stephen?”

“Yes,” He waved for him to enter the room. “And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Steve.”

Ahsan chuckled, shifting uncomfortably from where he stood. “You know I can’t do that, Sire.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Steve asked, head tilting to the side, breath hitching.

Ahsan scoffed lightly under his breath, barely becoming a chuckle. “You wanted to see me?” He prompted.

“I-” Steve took a breath, “Yes, I did. I would like you to sit in the window seat, just here.” He gestured to the rather large and comfortable looking spot before him. He was set up around five feet away, ready to capture the scene. “Kasi?” Steve called, and Ahsan jumped lightly. Kasi appeared in the doorway moments later, “I would like to remain undisturbed. Tell Mother I will be attending dinner, but if I require something before then, I will be eating in here.”

“Sire?” Ahsan questioned, walking slowly into the room, nervous.

“Please, Ahsan. Do as I say.” He smiled genuinely,  gesturing again at the window seat. Ahsan seemed nervous to accept it. “I wanted to draw a person, he’s been in my mind for a while now, ever since I can remember, in fact. I can never quite picture him, but he’s beautiful, quite like you I should imagine. And I would like a live model to draw him.”

“Quite like me, Sire?” Ahsan grinned, sitting on the window seat, removing his garden shoes and placing his feet up on the sill.

“Quite like you, Ahsan. Get comfortable.” He added as though it were an afterthought.

Ahsan shifted a couple of pillows, and rested his arm behind his head. “Like this, Sire?”

“Yes.” Steve breathed, and suddenly it was there. A vivid image of a beautiful boy. He wasted no time, hastily sitting in the chair and practically breaking his charcoal on the canvas in his rush to connect to the art. Like a man possessed, he sketched lines, and contoured planes, trying to capture every minute detail as best he could. His hand was cramping, and sweat was beading his brow. Ahsan seemed comfortable, if a little warm. “You can-” His voice was rough in the hours he hadn’t spoken. “Are you hungry?” He asked.

Ahsan slowly opened his eyes, blinking away the almost-sleep he was in. “Sire?” He cleared his throat.

“Are you hungry? We’ve been at it for quite a while.” Steve said, smiling.

“A glass of water?” He asked tentatively.

“Of course, Ahsan.” He called Kasi and asked she bring him two glasses of water and a pitcher. She returned soon, carrying a tray laden with the pitcher, glasses, and fresh lemons as well as a bowl of grapes. She left the tray on the end table, near the window seat.

“Thank you.” Steve said as he lifted a glass to his lips and drank. He went to slice a lemon for his water when Ahsan leaned forward.

“Allow me.” He said, taking the knife from Steve’s hand. Sitting on the bed, Steve looked over at the man.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that. You know I’m more than capable of slicing my own lemons.” He said petulantly.

“Yes, Sire, I know.” Ahsan said, “I do it because I want to. You’re the kindest Prince I could have wished to work for.” He said, diligently staring at the lemon, “You treat your staff with respect, you insist we call you by first name as though we’re friends-”

“Are we not?” Steve asked, interjecting.

“Sorry?” Ahsan said, now looking up as he sliced the lemons.

“Are we not friends?” Steve asked again, not unkindly, “You and I?”

Ahsan smiled rather large, “Yes, I suppose we are.” He brought the knife down to cut the last wedge of lemon, it slipped and cut his finger open. It stung from the citrus, and Ahsan hissed as he brought his forefinger to his mouth.

“Are you alright?” Steve asked, rushing to his side. He snatched a cloth from the table and grabbed Ahsan’s hand. Ahsan tried to pull his finger away, but Steve held on with an iron grip, “Don’t.” He wrapped Ahsan’s finger in a scrap of the cloth he tore with his teeth. He tied it off tightly, and patted it twice, keeping it in his hands. Seized with a sudden urge, he lifted the hand and brushed his lips against the wound. He looked up to see Ahsan staring at him in a mix of wonder and bewilderment. “All better.”

“Sire.” Ahsan breathed, and Steve’s heart was pounding and he’d known this was coming since they were boys. Ahsan leaned forward and kissed him and Steve’s breath hitched, for nothing in the world could have prepared him for this. Ahsan was exactly his height, his hair cropped short, beautiful and soft. Steve buried his hands in Ahsan’s short curls. All at once, Ahsan was pulling away, sucking in a harsh breath. “We-” But Steve was kissing him again, as though his life depended on it.

Ahsan pulled away again, slowly. Their foreheads rest against one another. “Mukta.” He breathed, “Father wants me to marry her.”

Steve felt rooted to the spot, all at once deceived but for some inexplicable reason his heart felt settled. As though it were at peace with this statement. “Yes,” He said, “Yes, she is beautiful.”

“Sire, you’re destined to marry in a Noble Court, even if we could be, we should not be.” Ahsan said, brushed Steve’s hair back into place with one loving hand.

“Will you _please_ call me Steve?”

There was a long stretch of silence at that, and then, “ _Stephen_ is the best I can do.”

Steve sighed deeply. “That’ll have to do, then.” He smiled.

Kasi entered the room, then, “Sire, it is time for dinner.” She stepped away almost immediately, taking a moment to cast a pitying glance at the pair standing in the room.

“Friends?” Steve asked as Ahsan stepped away, sliding his shoes back on.

“The best of.” Ahsan said, smiling genuinely. Steve smiled at him and turned, exiting the room. In the brief moment of silence that followed, Ahsan considered what had just happened. He reached up and touched his lips, smiling to himself. He stood and was about to leave through the servants’ entrance when something caught his eye.

He glanced over at the canvas and his breath caught in his throat. Steve had been right the boy _did_ look like him, but he could tell there were some differences. Ahsan couldn’t quite tell, but it appeared as though the boy were taller than him, and his face was a bit more defined. His nose was slightly shorter, and his brow was furrowed. The boy seemed pale in the drawing, but Ahsan couldn’t discern if that were from the use of charcoal or on purpose.

One thing was for certain, the boy was incredibly attractive, and looked so peaceful from where he slept. It was then that Ahsan noted where he slept. It appeared as though the boy were in a storage room, or perhaps an attic. Some place where he was high enough to see the entirety of the palace in the background through a window where tattered curtains hang.

Ahsan wondered where the boy was, that Stephen was drawing this in his mind.

He left the room shortly and took the stairs two at a time. Through a window on the staircase he noticed Steve arguing with his mother as she fussed over his appearance.

“I was drawing, Mama!” Steve insisted, trying to bat her hands away.

“Bipin was in the gardens today.” Ananya said, letting her hands rest by her side, giving up on fussing over Steve’s appearance and allowing him to right himself. “I would have sworn he was scheduled for the kitchens today, as we hired him as a cook.”

“You’ve never hired anyone, Mama.” Steve said under his breath as he refastened his cuffs around his wrists.

“What was that?” Ananya asked.

“I said you’ve never hired anyone, Mama. They live here and work for us day and night, but we pay them nothing, instead providing them what they need through the Royal Court. That is not a hire, Mama, that is a servant.” Steve said, turning around and facing his mother again.

“We treat our staff incredibly well, Stephen!” Ananya interjected.

“About as well as we treat the Outer Ring. We’re kind to them, and show them gratitude, but we give them no money. The only difference is that our staff don’t sleep in attics!” Steve tried not to over exert his lungs, taking a deep breath again while his mother spoke indignantly.

“What do you mean sleep in attics? Who is sleeping in an attic?” She asked.

“No one, Mama. I just mean they’re not hires, that’s all.” Steve said, fight leaving him in a rush as he realized how tired he was.

“If you saw the people of the Outer Ring you would see that they are well taken care of. Yes, they are poor, but they are not without beds, and not without food.” Ananya said.

Steve said nothing to that, taking his hat from his mother’s outstretched hands.

“You will be a great Sultan, Stephen.” She said after a moment.

Steve said nothing to that, walking over to the door and taking a deep breath as the doors were opened for him.

“Thank you, Mama.” He said genuinely. “I believe all that time cooped up drawing was driving me a bit stir crazy. I apologize for my temper.”

“You were actually drawing?” Ananya asked dubiously. Steve fought off a blush.

“Yes, I told you that.” Steve said, a bit confused, if embarrassed.

“I figured if Bipin was in the gardens, then you and Ahsan were up to no good again.” Ananya said, “If Ahsan was not in the gardens, or the kitchens, where was he, then?”

Steve swallowed, turning and setting off down the hall, his mother behind him. “He was with me, keeping me company as I drew.”

“So he was your muse?”

Steve tripped over his own two feet at the implication. “I’m sorry?”

“You said you didn’t know what you were going to draw, and then Ahsan joins you and you’re drawing for hours? He must have given you an idea.” Ananya said reasonably.

“Oh, yes, yes he did.” Steve said, regaining his footing.

“Well?” She prompted.

“What?” Steve asked.

“Can I see it?”

“No!” Steve said, hurriedly, “No, it’s um,” He panicked, “It’s not finished.”

“Very well,” Ananya said dubiously. “You are acting very strange today, Stephen.”

“Am I?” Steve asked under his breath.

“What was that?”

“I’m fine. I said I’m fine.” He lied.

They entered the dining hall and Steve stopped in his tracks. Ananya nearly bumped into him, and when she looked over his shoulder she smiled warmly.

“Papa!” Steve said as he ran the length of the hall, leaping into his father’s strong arms where he was swung around. Steve laughed, his smile so wide he felt his face would split. “I thought you’d gone home! You weren’t set to be back until tomorrow!”

“My boy, home is here, with you and your mother. My kingdom will remain secure, I have left it in very capable hands.”

“Sarah, I assume?” Ananya said, smiling still.

“Yes, Ananya, as always you were right again.” Joseph said, grinning at her.

Steve looked between the two of them smiling at one another. “Oh kiss already.” He rolled his eyes as Joseph chuckled and he held Ananya in his arms, he kissed her softly.

“Alright, that’s enough of that.” Steve said, walking to his seat at the table.

“You know that will be you one day, boy.” Joseph said, and Steve choked on the sip of water he’d taken.

“Papa!” He blustered. Joseph chuckled warmly.

“Please, we are at the table.” Ananya admonished. Their food was brought to them, and Steve looked at it quizzically. He looked up, and his mother looked at him, just as confused.

“Papa?” He asked.

“Potatoes, Stephen.” Joseph said taking a bite. “Mashed potatoes. They’re Irish, but I prefer to call them delicious.” He swallowed some water, “I’ll assume you’re familiar with the rest of the options?” He asked teasingly.

“Just a bit.” Steve answered, grinning. It was good to have his father back. They set into their food and soon both Steve and Ananya were praising the mashed potatoes.

“When can I go?” Steve asked, sometime later.

“Go where?” Joseph asked, and Ananya leveled Steve with a look, one that made it clear that she knew what he was up to.

“Mama said earlier that if I went to the Outer Ring I would understand the need for our Class System, because right now I’m not quite sure I get it.” Steve said, resolutely ignoring the glare his mother was giving him.

“That’s not what I said at all, Stephen.” Ananya said sharply.

“What did you say, Ananya?” Joseph asked not unkindly.

“I said that the Outer Ring, while poor, is taken care of. And that Steve would have no way of knowing that because he is not well enough to venture to the Outer Ring.”

“So I’m well enough to be married, but not enough to see my own kingdom?” Steve asked incredulously.

“Now, Stephen, you know you’re not well.” Joseph admonished.

“But, Papa-!”

“No, Stephen. Perhaps we can reconsider you marrying so soon if you’re against that, but you are not to leave the Center, do I make myself clear?” Joseph said.

“I-” But he was outnumbered, “Yes, Papa.” He said, defeated.

“Now, about your marriage-”

“I am not against being married, Papa, I was just against wedding for power. I want to have what you and Mama have. I want to marry for love.”

“You know your mother and I married for gain, the Isles and Agrabah were two rivaling kingdoms, joining them has gained us immense power.” Joseph said, levelheaded.

“Yes, but you and Mama were from _rivaling_ kingdoms. You married despite the resistance, for love. Power was a side effect.” Steve said.

There was a beat of silence as Joseph and Ananya looked at one another. “Yes, we did marry and were in love, but that is not-” Ananya began.

“Mama!”

“The _only_ reason we married.” She finished, steamrolling his objection.

“You are a kind man, son, the one you marry will love you.”

Steve said nothing, pushing his desert around on his plate. “It’s hard for _me_ to love this broken body, Papa.” He said, standing. “Forgive me if I don’t see someone else falling for it.”

“Stephen-!” Joseph called out, but Steve was already gone.

Steve stormed through the servants’ entrance as it was closest to his seat at the head of the hall. He nearly bumped into Eliza, Steve dodged her at the last moment. She was carrying a large tray of fruits and cheese. “Prince Stephen!” She said, flustered.

“Eliza, welcome back." He said trying not to let his temper lash at the wrong person. “Was your trip well?”

“Oh, yes, your father is quite the navigator. He’s a grand King.”

“I’ll tell him you said that.” Steve smiled.

“Does the King to Sultana titles ever confuse you?” Eliza blurted.

Steve had taken several steps, turning at her question. “Not as much as it probably should. King of Isles, Sultana of Agrabah, it’s quite simple when you break it down. We have different cultures.” He said simply, smiling at her as she looked rather embarrassed at having spoken out of turn. “Y’know?” Steve pondered for a moment, “You’re the first one to ever actually ask that. Father and Mother are still eating, go on ahead.”

She smiled softly and excused herself. Steve turned and nearly ran into Ahsan. “You-?” Ahsan pulled him to the side and into an alcove.

“These are busy halls, best if you don’t knock someone over.” He said smiling.

“I want to leave.” And now Steve was flushing for speaking out of turn.

“Sorry?” Ahsan asked.

“I want to leave,” Steve said, more assured. “I want to leave the palace, and I want to visit the Outer Ring.” He paused for a moment, “And I need your help to do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm updating a day early, it's mostly cause I wrote the majority of this today and I'm excited for you to read it, and also because I don't want to forget to post it tomorrow. That being said, expect updates on Thursdays.
> 
> Steve is mixed!! I've recast him as Sendhil Ramamurthy. His father rules the Isles, and is primarily Gaelic. His mother rules India.
> 
> Steve is preserum, but he's not like tiny, he's just got bad lungs. The rest of him is your average guy.
> 
> Bucky is still cast as Seb Stan.


	5. Chapter 2.5: An Escapade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title: Chapter 2.5: Because I'm That Bitch

The dark before the dawn stole over the kingdom of Agrabah, leaving a slight chill to the air. The palace was beautiful in its own right, so what possible wrongdoing could be cast upon it?

A whistle shattered the quiet that had settled over the palace walls. It sounded curiously like a dying bird. 

“Seriously?” Steve whispered over the edge of his balcony. “That’s the best bird call you have? Do it again.” He said, turning around and pretending he could not hear the pair of rolling eyes from this distance. The call was much better this time. “Boys,” Steve lamented, throwing his rope over the ledge. He slid his gloves on, and descended to the quiet earth below him. 

When his feet touched the ground, he breathed a sigh of relief before he was nearly taken off his feet again. 

“Tasha,” He whined, “No, darling. I’ll be back tonight. You’ve got to be quiet though, Mama  _ musn’t  _ know I’ve left the palace.”

The tiger whined, but nudged at his foot from where it slipped from Ahsan’s grasp. Steve looked down at her pleading face and he thought he understood what she meant. “I’m always safe, Tasha, name one time I was unsafe.” He bolstered and the look Ahsan and Tasha gave him was so strangely alike he found himself minutely annoyed with them. “ _ Besides  _ setting those  _ dreadful _ curtains on fire.” He said, rolling his eyes. “Twice.” He added when they continued to look at him. Ahsan rolled his eyes and, with Tasha’s help, heaved Steve over the wall and out into the break of a new day. One which, he knew, for he was certain of it, would change his life forever.


	6. Chapter 3: Serpentine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's meet Alexander.

Yes, yes, how exciting. Stephen has broken free from the Palace walls. But before we venture into his great safari, I implore you to see the rest of his dinner. There are some things I think you ought to know.

“Stephen-!” Joseph called, but it was of no use, the boy had fled from the dining hall before he could stop him.

“Sire?” Alexander asked as he entered the room.

“Alexander,” Ananya said, “Tell me you have something good to say. I don’t believe I can handle anymore negativity today.” She sighed. Eliza entered, carrying a plate laden with fruit and cheese. Ananya smiled kindly at her, trying not to misdirect her distress. Eliza laid the platter down on the table and both Joseph and Ananya picked at their food.

“I believe I have something you may be interested in.” Alexander said, smiling softly.

“What is it?” Joseph inquired, still facing the exit Steve left through .

“I believe I know of a way for you to find a proper bride for Stephen.” Alexander said.

“Really?” Ananya said, gasping.

“Really.” Alexander smiled, straight, pointed teeth.

“But how?” Ananya asked.

“Well, it is a mechanism of my own design, and I believe it can foretell a certain person one is in search of.” Alexander said.

“Alexander,” Joseph said, focusing now. “You truly are brilliant. I don’t know what we would do without you.”

“My Lord,” Alexander said, bowing slightly.

“Tell me, how does your machine work?” Joseph asked, flicking a grape at the hawk perched on the man’s shoulder. The bird caught it in its beak and ate it greedily.

“Joseph, really.” Ananya said reproachfully at the toying with food.

Joseph merely shrugged, looking over at Alexander again.

“My Lord,” Alexander said, “I am glad you asked, however I can give you no answer. I, myself, cannot explain it as I have not been able to successfully use it as yet.”

“But-” Ananya began.

“You see, the mechanism requires the use of a certain item. A mystic blue diamond, to be exact.” Alexander continued, as though he had heard nothing from the Sultana.

There was a moment of quiet, “This ring has been in the family for generations.” Joseph said, tugging the ring from where it rest on a chain against his chest, wearing an inscrutable expression. Ananya reached over and placed her hand on his.

“We can find another way,” She said.

Alexander moved swiftly, silently, like a snake. He approached the couple and raise his staff. It was an intricate thing, and looked quite like a rose, only the petals were tightly intertwined snakes, and at the very center, a ruby. A deeper red than blood, bright, and impossible, the ruby shone, twinkling in the dancing sunlight of the room. It caught the King and Sultana’s eyes, and seemed to engulf them, swallow them whole. The ruby glittered, swirling, dragging them down, down, down. “There is no other way,” Alexander murmured, watching as the ruby mesmerized the beautiful couple.

“Yes,” Ananya said, and Joseph looked slowly at her, as though trapped in a trance.

Alexander reached down and lifted the ring and necklace over the King's head, and slid it into his pocket for safekeeping. “Dessert is delicious, Sire, you should finish it.” He said. His cloak swirled behind him as he spun on his heel and exited the hall. 

“Yes,” He heard the King murmur behind him, “Yes, very delicious.” And the doors closed behind him with a resounding finality that masked the closing of the servant's doors, where Eliza had stood, watching the scene unfold. Alexander’s hawk spread his great wings and took flight, hovering close.

“Don’t make it look so easy, Alexander,” The bird mocked. “I mean, truly, they are like putty in your hands, it’s pathetic! And the King! What a child. He needs to grow up. Though I’d be happier if he got lost.”

“Have patience, Rumlow,” Alexander drawled, and the hawk continued to squawk, reduced to a nonsensical tangent. He tugged on a lantern and a door slid open, across from the dining hall. “Soon,” He continued, “I will be Sultan, and the King will go back to the Isles to grieve, and the Kingdom will be mine!” He worked his way through the maze of tunnels and hidden passageways that allowed him to be an omnipresent figure in the palace. He came upon the door he was in search of, and entered his laboratory, where the mechanism was held.

He climbed the winding staircase, and Rumlow landed on a set of cogs. He took hold of a handle and ran at it, so the wheel beneath him spun. With a great effort, the other cogs began to turn and shift and suddenly they were whirring into action, creating a small storm in a container. The mechanism shook, as the hawk panted. “Oh Evil One, would it not have been easier to wait for a real thunderstorm?”

“Save your breath, Rumlow, we are nearly there. Faster, now.” He commanded imperialistically. The hawk ran as fast as it could, and suddenly the brewing storm was seized with light and in one swift movement, Alexander placed the ancient ring into the center of a strikingly similar serpentine holder to that of his staff. Then, just as his hand had retreated, lightning struck the ring.

“Sand of time,” He said, voice low, loving almost. The serpentine holder headed an hourglass, and the sand swirled and became a great tiger, the entrance to the Cave of Wonder. “Show me the one worthy of entering.” Suddenly, the sand sunk, racing to the bottom as it swirled ever faster, displaying a grainy image of a beautiful, pale boy. He was climbing a ladder and helping someone skinny up after him. He could not see the second figure's face, but was quite certain it was the pale boy whom he sought.

“That’s him!” Squawked Rumlow, “That’s the ponce we’ve been waiting for!” And he suddenly lost his footing, and fell, flung about by the whirling of the great cogs.

“Yes, Rumlow,” Cackled Alexander, for he could not hold in his glee. “This is him. We should extend him an invitation to the palace.” He said, mind moving quickly as he developed a plan.

“Swell,” gasped Rumlow, trying to regain his footing from the dizzying toss.

Alexander looked into the hourglass once more, as the cogs slowed, and the image began to fade. He attempted to memorize every detail of the boy’s face from the grainy visage. “This is him,” He said. He could hardly make out any more features as the cogs stopped, but his mind was far off as he dreamed of all the possibility that now lay before him. He finished his sentence absentmindedly, “The diamond in the rough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to let everyone know:
> 
> I will absolutely post something new by each Thursday. So my official update days are Thursdays but if I complete a chapter sooner then I'll upload as soon as it's done. 
> 
> That being said, I hope you've been enjoying this story so far!! It's been so much fun to write :)


	7. Serenity's Acquaintance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They will meet, and love will have chased them to this very street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAHHHH IT'S STILL THURSDAY ON THE EAST COAST WHERE I LIVE AAAAAAHHHHHH SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE I LOVE YOU ALL!!!!
> 
> That being said, this isn't beta'd so it may be a bit rough, but I will tweak it tomorrow, because I am so tired.

Well, it appears all is not as it seems to be in our homely kingdom. The storm brews on the horizon, but perhaps, for now, we can escape the dangers of greed and ignorance into the throes of charity and understanding.

 

“What-?” Steve stood amidst the people of the Outer Ring and felt a shudder tear through him. This couldn’t be it, this had to be a joke. He looked around and saw piles of trash and flies surrounding it, heaps of fertilizer just sitting out, there was a boy crying in the street, there was a girl dressed provocatively but with a ghostly vacant look in her eyes that Steve truly hoped was a trick of the light. Disgust settled somewhere near the back of his tongue, and made him cringe and want to puke. Tears stung the corners of his eyes and he pulled his hood lower over his face, and forced his feet to move, one in front of the other, determined to see everything.

 

He walked toward the little market, and there, at least, was lively. There was a group of street performers, and all the stand owners were calling out their specials trying to gather people’s attention. He strode on and saw a little girl, so young, impossibly young, sitting on her own, clutching her stomach. Steve went to approach her and saw a stand of apples. He grabbed one and handed it to the girl. Her whole face lit up and it made it hard for Steve to breathe (or perhaps that was the smell). He smiled back at her, and suddenly his wrist was seized in an iron grip. He wheeled around, and looked up in fear as a man towered over him. 

 

“Thief!” The man cried. Steve’s blood ran cold as he immediately spluttered his apologies.

 

“No, please, I’m so sorry.” He babbled.

 

“Money is apology’s currency around here boy.” The man growled, and it seemed as though the entire market were holding its breath, watching, waiting.

 

“B-but,” Steve stammered, “I don’t have any money, please.” 

 

“A thief!” The man called, and he raised Steve’s hand high in the air, showing him off like a prize. “A man, that is less than man!” He cried to the public, and Steve felt horribly small and sick to his stomach. He looked helplessly outward and was made tragically aware of why his mother was so afraid of letting him out of the house. He was a fool. A fool who gave everything to everyone without a concern for himself.

 

“Please, sir, please,” Steve felt panic rushing up inside him at the uncertainty of what next to do.

 

“Do you know what happens to thieves around here?” The man asked menacingly, he closed in on Steve and nearly spat in his face. Steve looked at him in abject terror, afraid to answer. But the answer was given for him. The man slammed his wrist against the table, drawing his sword and it all became so violently clear that Steve could have thrown up on the spot. He was hyperventilating, and dissolved into a coughing fit as he tried to choke his pleas out, begging for another way.

 

“Please,” He hacked and spluttered, “I know the Sultana, if you’ll just let me go to the palace.” His sentence was dismembered by his awful coughing that would not cease, but the man merely raised his sword.

 

“It is too late,” He said, and the sun glinted off the sword and for one dazzling moment, Steve was blinded and then he saw his reflection, as clear as day. His face was warped with fear, and the crowd behind him just looked on, some had the decency to look afraid, but most looked on with pity. Steve saw his hand held to the table and for one wild second, he realized this was his drawing hand, and suddenly, he was not only fearing for himself, but mourning for the loss of the beautiful boy from all his drawings. He might never see him again. He might never see him at all.

 

The man swung his sword down and there was a clap as his clenched fist slapped into a pale, open palm. There was a shout, and a “There you are!”, and before he knew it, Steve was coughing and hacking into a warm shoulder, and strong, thin arms were wrapped around him. 

 

“I have been looking all over for you!” The voice said, and Steve finally caught his breath.

 

“You know this man?” The shop owner said. Steve looked up and saw a pale, dark-haired boy speaking to the man that nearly cut off his hand. 

 

“Yes, tragically,” The boy said, and Steve wanted to catch a glimpse of his face, because he felt so  _ familiar _ . But the boy had let him go and was now squarely facing the shop owner. “He is my brother.” 

 

“Oh?” The man asked, and he looked intrigued. “You two look nothing alike,” He said, skeptical.

 

“Yes, he’s uh,” And the boy faltered, “Adopted. And!” He recovered, and brought the shop owner’s attention back to Steve, while he sidled up close to the man. “He is very sick.” 

 

“He said he knew the Sultana,” The man said dangerously, and the boy looked at him, apologetically.

 

“Yes, he thinks the  _ monkey _ is the Sultana.” A monkey ambled up, and without much thought, Steve threw his head down and bowed to the monkey.

 

“Oh, your highness.” He said.

 

“Oh.” The shop owner said, and was preoccupied enough that he did not notice the boy kick his heel up and catch another apple. 

 

“However!” He said, and handed the apple over, as though it were the one Steve had handed to the little girl. “No harm, no foul.”

 

The shop owner looked dubious, but it appeared he was not going to be going to be cutting off Steve’s hand any time soon. “Very well,” He said.

 

The boy grabbed Steve and threw his arm around his waist, supporting Steve. “C’mon bro, we gotta go see the doctor.” And he had to give it to the blonde beauty because he looked straight at a camel, his face went slack, and-

 

“Hello, doctor, it’s nice to meet you!” Steve said, and he could feel the boy next to him holding in his laughter. 

 

“Not that doctor.” He said, and Steve had to fight off a grin. The boy scooped Steve up into his arms and carried him away, as quick as he could. Steve buried his face into his shoulder, and allowed himself this small weakness in exchange for the great comfort. The adrenaline that had flooded his system had fled him now, and he was shaky with the cold and near death experience. Logically, he knew he would not die, but the idea of losing his art was as good as death in his opinion. Worse, if he were being honest.

 

The sun was setting, and the heat of the day was fleeing the Outer Ring, chased out by the shadows of night. Eventually, Steve was allowed to stand on his own two feet. Though when he did, it was futile, as the moment he looked up and truly saw the boy for the first time, he nearly fell over from the shock.

 

“ _ You _ .” He said, and the boy continued walking forward. He didn’t say anything for a minute or so, and slowly they began to ascend an outer staircase.

 

“You feel it too?” He prompted. Steve thought that shouldn’t make any sense, but for whatever reason it did. It made perfect sense.

 

So he nodded.

 

“Bucky.” The boy said, and Steve was surprised by the intensity of the familiarity he felt as the name.

 

“Steve.” He said.

 

They continued on in silence, and Bucky helped Steve climb onto the rooftop where the staircase had led them. Bucky grabbed a pole from on top of the building. “You don’t really know Agrabah do you?” He said conversationally, testing the pole’s strength.

 

“Of course I do.” Steve said indignantly, but then remembered everything that had happened since he’d left the palace. “Oh,” He said, his voice small. Bucky was running, and Steve thought he was leaving for a moment before he stuck the pole against the ledge of the building and flung himself across the gap and rolled onto the building next door. “What?” He said, baffled. Bucky grinned. The jerk.

 

“Come on.” He beckoned for Steve to follow him.

 

“No.” Steve said, immediately.

 

“Scared?” Bucky asked, teasingly.

 

“Petrified, actually.” Steve said, swallowing tensely.

 

Bucky hesitated. “Okay.” He looked around, but Winter had beat him to it. He pointed at a plank lying off to the side. “Okay.” He said, picking it up, and laying it over the gap between the buildings.

 

“No.” Steve said, again.

 

“You have to.” And it was amazing how little words were exchanged between them.

 

Steeling himself, Steve walked up to the plank, and slowly, very slowly, worked his way across. He looked down, and felt his heart flutter.

 

“Look at me, Stevie, just me.” Bucky said, and Steve’s eyes flicked up to his, and suddenly he wasn’t so scared anymore. It wasn’t that he entirely unafraid, it was more that the fear didn’t matter when he looked at Bucky. Anything was possible.

 

“Yeah,” He breathed, and continued shuffling forward. He reached the other side and collapsed into Bucky’s arms. 

 

They walked the rest of the way to Bucky’s home. “Hi, Mrs. Kansal,” Bucky said, and the woman frowned at Steve but said nothing more than an easy hello.

 

“Come on,” Bucky said, smiling now, “This way.” They climbed the last staircase and suddenly they were inside.

 

“Is this where you live?” Steve felt himself asking, looking around. He noted the crates and boxes, scattered cloth and dust. “It’s…” He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.

 

“Not much?” Bucky finished for him, and Steve was grateful for the out, “Yeah, I know.” He smiled looking around. “But it’s home,” He walked up to the large curtain, “And besides,” He pulled it aside revealing the palace. “It has a great view.”

 

Steve smiled, but he was not looking at the palace, he was looking at the boy. The beautiful boy, he’d spent his entire memory on. He was not sure when it began, but Steve would be hard pressed to recall his life before he first envisioned him.

 

“Yeah, great view.” He said, still staring at Bucky. Winter looked between the two of them and giggled.

 

Bucky looked around and caught Steve staring. He had the decency to blush.

 

“Winter and I,” He said, smiling, “We keep to ourselves mostly. Mrs. Kansal says that as long as we don’t disturb her shop, we are welcome to come and go as we please. Though, I admit, she isn’t too impressed with me bringing a boy home.” Before he could register what he had said, the words were out of his mouth and hanging between them like some awful lingering innuendo. Steve grinned. 

 

“That sounds like heaven.” He said, and Bucky felt queasy at the thought that sprung to his mind, unbidden.

 

_ Sounds like you. _

 

“Yeah,” He said aloud, “Yeah it’s pretty great. Though I admit, I wish I were living at the palace.” 

 

Steve turned away from Bucky and sat on the floor, lump in his throat. “Yeah the palaze is great.” But there was no heart in it.

 

“I mean, to have a maid, and valet, and to never have to be  _ hungry _ . Wow, what a life.”

 

“Yeah, with people breathing down your necks, telling you what to do, and who to be.”

 

“But that would be  _ worth it _ . I mean, you’d be alive, and well.” And Steve gave a bark of a laugh.

“Alive, certainly, but only just.” He mumbled. Bucky didn’t entirely know what to make of that, so he just kept quiet.

 

“Where did you say you were from?” He asked eventually.

 

“I didn’t.” Steve said, and Bucky looked at him, face blank. “It doesn’t matter,” He assured him, “I’ll be gone and out of your hair by sunrise.”

 

“Why?” He hadn’t meant to ask it, but now that the question was out there, he was unable to regret it.

 

“I have to return home.” Steve said.

 

“But you aren’t happy there.” Bucky countered.

 

“Yet you come back here every night.” Steve bristled.

 

“Who says I’m unhappy here?” Bucky asked incredulously.

 

Steve was caught out, and he was scrambling for an excuse, “It’s free, but it’s squalor Bucky.”

 

“ _ Squalor _ ?” Bucky asked.

 

“It is unclean! And you have to climb so high just to go to bed at night, and you are already so thin, you couldn’t possibly enjoy the hike.” Steve reasoned.

 

“But I am safe! It’s better than the streets.” He spat, and Steve was suddenly reminded of the status of  _ everyone _ here in the Outer Ring.

 

“I…” He didn’t know what to say. “I’m-”

 

There was a shredding sound as the curtain to the exit was ripped from its hangings. In poured several policemen.

 

“They’re after me!” Steve and Bucky said at the same time.

 

“They’re after you?” They asked each other, again at the same time.

 

“Seize him!” The front policeman shouted. Bucky was dismayed to recognize Rollins.

 

Bucky spun around and faced Steve, “Do you trust me?”

 

“What?” Steve asked, but the police were getting closer.

 

“Do you trust me?” Bucky asked, more insistent, holding out his hand.

 

“Yes.” Steve said, and grabbed Bucky’s hand. Bucky yanked him and jumped clear out of the window. Down they fell, sinking through several awnings, until they landed on a pile of sand at the bottom. Hard.

 

“Oh,” Steve groaned, rolling over in pain. 

 

“We have to run.” Bucky said, ignoring his own pain, and reaching out to grab Steve’s hand again. They stumbled, together, off the pile of sand and made it a few feet before Rollins had caught up to them. 

 

“Not so fast,” He spat, and grabbed Bucky, putting him in a headlock. Another man reached forward and Bucky jumped, kicking the man in the face. He stomped on Rollins’ toe, and the man released him.

 

Steve watched them struggle, and he kept saying stop, but no one was listening to him. He looked on as the situation escaladed, and then all of a sudden stopped. Bucky was captured. “Unhand him!” Steve found himself saying, a surprising amount of authority in his tone.

 

“Sorry, boy, I can’t do that.” Rollins said. 

 

Seized with inspiration, Steve tore his hood off, “Unhand him! In the name of the Prince.”

 

Steve was staring at Rollins, and in his peripherals the policemen gave pause, and Steve distantly heard Bucky mumble, “Prince?”

 

He squared his shoulders and attempted to look more authoritative, given his slight stature. “Now.” He said, and Rollins hesitated, but ultimately stood taller (to a much greater effect).

 

“I cannot, Sire. I operate on Alexander’s orders.” Rollins said, and the name twisted a coil of fear in his gut. “You will have to discuss his release with him.”

  
They were dragging Bucky away, and Steve watched him disappear around the corner, shocked that he had no authority here. “I will.” He said, to himself, now that the men had gone, “I will have to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys can find me at cmonpadfoot.tumblr.com!! check me out :)


	8. Home & Horror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But, how could Steve have known Alexander's intentions?

Steve, kind and brave, always fought to do the right thing. Time and time again, he would lay down his own wishes to meet the needs of others. Now, as a prince, this was most commonly affected by giving his servants days off in their time of need. However, on an occasion such as this, far be it from Steve to not turn the palace upside down to save the life of a lowly street rat.

 

“Alexander?” He shouted as he stormed through the back entrance and into the dining hall. “Alexander, I require your assistance!” He was still shouting, and Eliza walked up to him.

 

“Sire?” She questioned, “Please, Alexander is in his study. You mustn’t wake your mother, she’ll be furious to know you left the palace.”

 

“I don’t care.” Steve said, harshly, “Let her find out that her aid and advisor ruined the best day of my life.” He took a deep breath, and steadied himself.

 

“Will you tell me?” Eliza asked, smiling softly at him, attempting to rein him in.

 

Steve took another deep breath, “Yes, Eliza, I would love to. But I must speak with Alexander. I’ll meet you and Ahsan in my bedroom after I speak with Alexander.” He smiled at her and she smiled brightly in return. Her smile took a devious turn.

 

“Shall I bring the wine, Sire?” 

 

Steve looked incredibly relieved, “I love you,” He said, kissing her on each cheek. He then stepped away to rush off.

 

“Thought you might like that idea.” She smiled, watching as Steve slipped out of the dining hall.

He dashed across the entryway and into the hall across the room. He felt more clear headed, but now his anger was cold and bubbling under the surface, less hurricane, and more a quiet tsunami, threatening to overtake him. He threw the door to the study open and saw Alexander sitting at his desk. The door banged against the wall, and Steve nearly winced but caught himself just in time. He knew next to nothing about Alexander, but he knew enough to not hesitate. He was not a man that responded well to weakness.

 

“Release him.” Steve demanded, staring hard at the man. Alexander looked torn between unimpressed and annoyed surprise.

 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific.” Alexander said, voice cool.

 

“Don’t play me for a fool, Alexander. Your guardsmen rounded up a boy from the marketplace on your orders. Release him.” Steve said, righteous anger flaring up inside him. It quelled the anxious twisting of his stomach.

 

“Oh?” Alexander said, and for a brief moment, Steve saw doubt flicker across his features, but it was gone so quickly before he could be certain it was there at all. “I am afraid I cannot do that.” He said. “His charge was quite serious.”

 

“What charge?” Steve demanded.

 

“Why,” And did Alexander just falter? “Kidnapping the prince of course.”

 

After the hurricane of anger that swirled around the office and pumped in Steve’s veins the sudden, shocked silence was deafening. “ _ What _ ?” Steve asked, outrage returning full force. “I was not  _ kidnapped _ , I ran away!” He felt like he was going to explode. How could Alexander truly think that Bucky could break into the palace, pass the guards, steal Steve away, and make it all the way back to the Outer Ring without getting caught? Hell, Steve  _ himself _ had nearly been caught half a dozen times just trying to get to the gardens after curfew, much less make it all the way to the Outer Ring. It was preposterous!

 

“Oh,” And Alexander looked pitying, “Oh, if only I had known, Ste-.”

 

“It is  _ Prince Stephen _ to you.” Steve spat.

 

“Forgive me, Sire, if only I had known, I could have thwarted the sentence. But, as it stands, I am most sorry to admit. His sentence has already been carried out.” Alexander said, attempting to keep the disdain from his voice as he talked to the boy.

 

“What sentence?” Steve asked, and he wasn’t sure if he’d succeeded in sounding threatening. It sounded quiet, and small.

 

“Death.” Alexander said, without a trace of emotion.

 

Steve felt as though the world were trying to throw him off balance, and he nearly fell to the floor, but sheer shock kept him rooted to his spot. “What?” He heard someone ask. It took him a solid minute to realize it was him, or it must have been, because Alexander was standing beside him, hands on his shoulders. A shiver ran down Steve’s spine and he wanted to run away, but he couldn’t. His grief weighed him to the spot like a boulder on his chest.

 

“I am  _ truly _ sorry,  _ Prince _ Stephen.” Alexander said, steering Steve towards the door.

 

“No.” Steve mumbled, feet on autopilot.

 

“I am afraid, Sire,” Alexander began, still shepherding Steve into the entryway. “Fate played a cruel trick on us tonight.”

 

There was a whistling of skin, and a loud smack echoed through the high-ceilinged entryway. Alexander had stumbled back a few paces, shock doing nothing to help the already distasteful features he was so unfortunate to have. Steve had not moved from his spot, his chest heaving, and glaring mutinously at the older man. “The only cruel  _ thing _ to happen tonight, were your choices. You pathetic man. We will see how the Sultana feels for your bloodlust.” He said, contempt dripping from every syllable. Turning on his heel, Steve had no more words for Alexander. 

 

Alexander glared at the retreating boy, and swept back into his office.

 

Steve felt as though he had run a mile, his heart was thundering in his chest, and grief and rage warred to win out, but it was determination that kept him moving.

 

He took care not to storm through the palace, and with tremendous effort he took a deep, calming breath before he turned the handle.

 

“Stephen.” Ahsan said, gracefully falling out of his handstand.

 

“Is there something alluring about being upside down, Ahsan?” Steve asked, something deep inside him uncoiling at the sight of his friends.

 

“It helps the brain function!” Ahsan said cheerily.

 

“You could stand on your head for a thousand years, Ahsan, but it cannot help function that which is not there.” Eliza said, smiling to herself. Steve raised his eyebrows and laughed at that, Ahsan merely stuck his tongue out in reply.

 

“Here,” Eliza said, pouring some wine into a cup for Steve.

 

“Did you start without me?” He said curiously, eyeing the room.

 

“You know,” Ahsan said, finishing his cup very quickly. “I just can’t remember, it was quite the blur, you see.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Steve said, teasing smile on his lips. “I’m sure.” He drank down his cup and his smile didn’t seem so hard to keep up anymore.

 

“You said it was the best day ever?” Eliza prompted.

 

“Oh, Eliza, if only you could have  _ been  _ there. This boy, Bucky, he’s perfect.” He accepted another glass, and drank this one slower. “He saved me from these guards, and then we spoke, and...”

 

“And what?” Ahsan asked.

 

“Well, he’s just…” Steve struggled to find a proper word. “He’s so  _ human _ . He’s really in touch with his wants and his needs, and he’s not afraid to defend something that matters to him.”

 

“And how would you know that?” Ahsan said, eyeing Steve.

 

“Well,” He blushed, “I accidentally called his home squalor?” It might have slipped out as a question.

 

Eliza choked on her wine. “You  _ what?” _

“Well, to be fair! His place  _ is _ squalor. I just- I didn’t mean to insult him, it was just a fact. I-” He cut himself off. “I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t even get a chance to apologize.”

 

“Well, you can just go back tomorrow! We’ll help you!” Eliza said, placing a warm hand on Steve’s knee. 

  
“Yeah,” Steve said, because he did not want to upset his friends with the knowledge that the boy he’d dreamt of and drawn for so many years was gone. “Tomorrow.”


End file.
